


You Have 0 New Messages

by RedTeamShark



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Gen, Helmet-Based Texting, Longing, relationship implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedTeamShark/pseuds/RedTeamShark
Summary: Send his nightly message to Wash. Wait for it to go through. Wait for an answer that never comes.--Remember the first half of season 12? Remember when we were all certain that Shit Was Bad with the Feds? Yeah, this came from that.





	You Have 0 New Messages

Training’s done for the day and just before he goes to shower, Tucker does what has become his routine. He stops in his room on base, switching off his helmet’s broadcast and instead activating the message mode.

**You Have 0 New Messages.**

“Yeah, thanks…” He mutters, sighing and leaning against the door. “Compose Message.”

**Send Message to Whom?**

“Send to Wash.”

**Name Not Recognized.**

Tucker lets out a sigh that seems to come from his toes, straightening his back. “Send message to Agent Washington.” If there’s one thing he needs to remember to do, it’s update Wash’s information in his systems. Then again… he doesn’t know enough about the damn armor to do that without fucking it up.

**Compose Message.**

“Wash, hey. We’re gonna come get you, man. Don’t worry, okay? We’re gonna go all… fucking super-commando and bust your ass outta there, just you wait.” He pauses, swallows, watches the text scroll across the screen. Rereading it, he nods slightly. “And… and if I have to do it alone, I fuckin’ will. I miss you. Send message.”

The text blinks twice, before being replaced with new words.

**Message Pending Delivery.**

“Check pending messages.”

**Currently 35 Messages Pending Delivery.**

Tucker nods slightly, counting backwards. It’s been just over a month, so that sounds about right… still… “Check sent messages.”

**Currently 14 Sent Messages.**

His eyes scroll down the list, shoulders slumping. None of his messages to Wash have gone through, not yet. He supposes it’s not too surprising.

“Log off.”

* * *

**You Have 1 New Message.**

“Display message.” Tucker barely whispers the words, his mouth suddenly dry. His heart is pounding in his ears and he feels like he might fall down.

**Please Repeat Command.**

“Display message.” He manages to speak with more force, falling against the wall as the text scrolls across his helmet.

 **New Message From Grif, Red Team  
** _Captain meeting with Kimball tonight after training don’t be late or she’ll rip your dick off dude._

He should know better than to get his hopes up, but he still goes through it. It’s as much routine as the push-ups, as the squats, as the shooting range. It’s as much routine as every effort to get good enough to rescue Wash. “Compose message.”

**Send Message To Whom?**

“Send to Grif, Red Team.” The field to compose his message appears shortly and Tucker hurries out a response, sending the message off. He tries not to feel bitter when the text shows up.

**Message Delivered.**

“Compose new message.” He speaks again, one hand unconsciously gripping his armored thigh as if it will somehow stop him from shaking.

**Send Message To Whom?**

“Agent Washington.”

**Compose Message.**

“We’re going to rescue you, Wash. I don’t care if I have to kill every motherfucker in the Fed army on my own, I’m going to get you out of there. Fuck, I… I can’t _not_ , you understand that? I love you way too much to leave you… and shit, I wish I’d told you that sooner… I… Wash, if I can just see you again, just know you’re safe… I’ll tell you that I love you every goddamn day. I’ll… Wash, please, just be okay. I can’t do this without you.” He inhales shakily, gets himself back together, and rereads the text. For as obstinate as the helmet messaging system can be about how commands are spoken, it has perfectly captured every shaking word he’s spoken, every trembling pause as he searches to put to words what he feels so deeply inside himself. Tucker licks his lips, ignoring the burn of tears as he checks the text once more. “Send message.”

His emotional outpouring vanishes after a moment, replaced by much shorter, more mechanical text.

 **Message Pending Delivery**.

He opens his mouth to complete the routine when the text abruptly vanishes. For a moment, his heart stops, before the new text scrolls across his screen.

**You Have 1 New Message.**

“Display Message.” His voice is as mechanical as he imagines the helmet messaging system sounds, his heart utterly still in his chest.

 **New Message From Caboose**  
_Tucker please help I am stuck in my armor again frowny face frowny face frowny face._

Tucker lets out a breathless laugh that he tries to pretend doesn’t sound like a sob, quickly exiting the helmet messaging system. He’ll check his pending messages later on, then. He can’t get through a day without having to make sure, after all.

* * *

“Pack your things, guys, we’re moving out.” Tucker commands, lifting his DMR. Wherever the Feds they’d spotted at the refueling station have gone, whatever they are planning, there’s no reason to stick around and wait for it. Besides, if they can get the drop on them…

Simmons is still fueling up the Warthogs, though Grif and Caboose seem mostly ready to move out. The aqua-clad soldier pauses, patting his fellow Blue on the shoulder quickly. “Hey, I’ll be back in just a minute, okay? Gotta take a piss.”

“Okay. Stay safe, Tucker. I do not like how quiet this place is and how many dead people are here.” Caboose nods and Tucker returns it with a small salute.

“You got it, man.” He ducks around the corner from the other three, shutting his helmet broadcast system down. It’s a risky move, especially if Locus is hot on their trail, but he hasn’t actually checked his messages in a couple of days and he’s sort of getting nervous about it. What if Wash thinks he gave up on him?

**You Have 0 New Message.**

He doesn’t have time to be disappointed, not right now. Instead, he gets down to business. “Compose message. Send to Agent Washington.” When the text prompts him to compose his message, Tucker lets out a sigh. “We’re going to save you, Wash, and the first fucking thing I’m gonna do when I see you is kiss you. So you better be ready for that. Then I might punch you for being dumb enough to get caught, but we’ll see how that goes. Either way, though… we’re going to get you back. I promise on… on everything.” He swallows, rereads the text, and nods. “Send message.”

**Message Pending Delivery.**

Tucker barely has time for the words to register before they change.

**Message Delivered.**

He barely feels himself stop breathing, barely registers the way his hands clench into fists. “Check pending messages.”

**Currently 0 Pending Messages.**

Tucker tries everything not to get his hopes up. Tells himself it’s a helmet glitch, something that he’ll have to deal with because he’ll never figure out how to get it patched out and he’s sure as shit not letting someone else mess around with his helmet. Not with all the fucking love letters to Wash in there. Still…

“Check sent messages.”

**Currently 72 Sent Messages.**

There were 71 pending messages the last time he checked. He recently cleaned out his sent messages. Tucker’s vision is becoming a slow series of rolling waves, alternating between two bright and too dark. His mouth tastes like blood and his lungs don’t seem to be getting any air.

**You Have 1 New Message.**

“D-display message.” He whispers, licking lips that he can’t feel with a tongue like sandpaper. He swallows the ball of lint that seems to have taken over his throat, eyes hot and heavy in his skull, blood thick and sluggish in his veins.

 **New Message From Agent Washington  
** _He’s never going to see these._


End file.
